Floods 3

by Colin Thompson

  ‘There’s no such word as furiosity,’ said Mordonna.

  ‘There is now. I am the Queen so I’m allowed to invent words. Nerlin, my dear boy, go and fetch a marriage celebrant. There’s no time to lose.’

  ‘My father can perform the ceremony,’ said Nerlin.

  ‘Really?’ said the Queen.

  ‘Yes,’ said Nerlin’s father. ‘I have passed through the sacred fire of the Curry Sewer. This gives me powers of authority. I have fought and beaten the Great Greasetrap Alligator. This gives me the status of commander. I have swum through the Slough of Diced Carrots and emerged unscathed. This gives me –’

  ‘Yes, yes, fine,’ snapped the Queen.

  ‘And I have my own pen,’ Nerlin’s father concluded.

  ‘OK, OK, get on with it,’ said the Queen. ‘We have to go.’

  ‘Dearly beloved,’ Nerlin’s father began, ‘we are gathered –’

  ‘Faster!’ snapped the Queen.

  ‘Do you, Mordonna, Princess of Transylvania Waters, take –’

  ‘Of course she does, and so does he! Get on with it!’

  ‘OK, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bridge.’

  ‘Don’t you mean kiss the bride?’ said the Queen.

  ‘Not until he’s kissed the brown bridge over the Great Sewer of Quagmire,’ said Nerlin’s father. ‘It completes the ceremony. We all have to do it when we get married, and I can tell you it tastes dreadful.’

  The wedding party walked to the bridge. Nerlin closed his eyes, took a deep breath and kissed the disgusting bridge. When it kissed him back he almost fainted.

  ‘I must take you back to the castle, my lady,’ said Vessel to the Queen, ‘before the King notices you are missing.’

  ‘Notices I’m missing?’ laughed the Queen. ‘You must be joking. If I vanished altogether he probably wouldn’t notice for six months until it was time for his next bath and he wanted me to scrub his back.’13

  ‘Have you located my daughter and the sewer rat who kidnapped her?’ roared the King.

  ‘I have, sire,’ the Chancellor lied.

  Baines LeClaude had been Chancellor for forty years. He had learnt after two minutes in the job to tell the King whatever he wanted to hear, whether it was true or not. When the information wasn’t true the Chancellor would find someone lower down the line to blame. This way the Chancellor had managed to keep his head joined onto his body while many of his servants hadn’t.

  ‘You know exactly where they are then?’ said the King.

  ‘I do, sire.’

  ‘And you have a plan to bring my beloved daughter safely back to me and kill her abductor in a really horrible, slow, painful and loud way?’

  ‘It is in hand, sire,’ the Chancellor lied, seeing a horrible brick wall appear inside his head with no door in it to escape through.

  ‘You have two hours,’ said the King. ‘Oh, and one more thing before you go.’

  ‘Yes, oh exalted one?’ grovelled the Chancellor as he backed away towards the door.

  ‘You have just told me your fifteen thousand, seven hundred and fifty-third lie since you became Chancellor. Each time you have managed to squirm out of blame by sacrificing some poor innocent idiot. Now, whilst I always enjoy beheading innocent idiots, I’m really looking forward to seeing how you get out of this one.’

  ‘But sire …’ the Chancellor began.

  ‘Shut up,’ said the King. ‘It’s simple. Princess Mordonna standing here before me safe and sound in two hours equals Chancellor’s body and head in the same room together. Princess Mordonna not standing here in two hours equals Chancellor’s body and Chancellor’s head in buckets on their way to the Export Burger Factory.’

  ‘I … I … I …’

  ‘That’s all. Now off you go and fetch my darling little Princess,’ said the King. ‘And on your way out, send in my secretary. We need to arrange for Prince Nochyn to come so we can marry them off before she tries anything like this again.’

  ‘I’m a dead man,’ the Chancellor cried to his wife.

  ‘If I had a gold sovereign for every time I’ve heard you say that,’ said his wife, ‘I’d be really rich.’

  ‘This time it’s true,’ the Chancellor said. He told his wife about Mordonna.

  ‘In that case, yes, you’re absolutely right,’ said his wife. ‘You are a dead man. Oh well, I suppose I’d better start looking for a new husband. Where’s the evening paper?’

  ‘What!’ the Chancellor cried. ‘Is that all you can say?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said his wife. ‘Before you go, don’t forget to give me your bank books and the combination to your safe.’

  The Chancellor fell on the ground and curled up into a little ball. His wife, who had been vacuuming the floor when he had come home with his news, was not completely heartless and decided to clean around him rather than make him move. His children were not so considerate and complained that they couldn’t see the TV properly with him lying there.

  ‘I suppose I might just as well kill myself now then,’ sobbed the Chancellor.

  ‘Yeuww, Dad, gross!’ said his eldest daughter.

  ‘Yes, too much information, Dad,’ said the middle sister.

  ‘Yeah, Dad, show some consideration. We’ve had a hard day at school,’ said the youngest daughter. ‘Go out and do it in the garden.’

  Two hours later the Chancellor was being converted into a carton of Export Burgers on its way to western Europe, and the King summoned his new chancellor to the throne room.

  ‘I have a new plan,’ he told the Chancellor. ‘I want you to issue a Royal Proclamation.’

  ‘Yes, sire,’ said the new Chancellor.

  ‘Everyone in the land is to fry six big onions and boil ten brussels sprouts14 and eat them with a can of baked beans. Then at midnight, everyone must go to the lavatory. At fifteen minutes past midnight, I will drop a lighted firework down the drains.’

  ‘Brilliant plan, oh great and wise and seriously, totally clever King of the world,’ said the new Chancellor.

  ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ said the King, ‘That should flush them out!’

  ‘Oh, good one, sire,’ laughed the Chancellor. ‘Only someone as wise as yourself could have come up with such a clever plan and then been witty enough to make a joke about it.’

  ‘Joke? What joke?’ said the King.

  ‘I will organise the decree,’ said the Chancellor, hurrying away before the King realised that the explosion would probably kill everyone in the drains, including Mordonna.

  ‘And I will go and tell the Queen about my brilliant plan,’ said the King. ‘She’ll be so happy to get our daughter back.’

  ‘I have a brilliant plan,’ said the King, bursting into Queen Scratchrot’s bedroom. ‘I know I have fifty brilliant plans every day, but this is my best one ever. Our poor kidnapped daughter will be back here within the hour and Prince Nochyn will be here tomorrow for the happiest day of their lives.’

  The Queen tried to push the bag she had been packing under her bed, but the King was so excited he didn’t even notice. He was so full of himself, he wasn’t even aware that the Queen was wearing her riding boots or that Vessel was carrying a rucksack full of sandwiches and stay-fresh biscuits.

  ‘She hasn’t been kidnapped. I have spoken … er, I have heard they are in love,’ said the Queen. ‘She’s going to marry this man.’

  ‘I absolutely forbid it,’ said the King. ‘And if he so much as kisses her little finger, I will have him turned into a wood louse.’

  ‘If you do the slightest bad thing to that lovely boy … I mean, I hear he’s a lovely boy … or I, er, imagine he is or our daughter wouldn’t have chosen him,’ said the Queen, ‘I will turn you into a one-legged rat with extra scabies and pus-filled ears.’

  ‘Really?’ said the King, intrigued.

  ‘You wouldn’t like it,’ the Queen warned. ‘Your ears will be filled with boiling hot bubbling pus and the only sounds you will hear will be t
he ten worst Eurovision Song Contest songs of all time.’

  The King looked grumpy but said nothing. He knew the Queen had far more magic than he did. Slamming the door behind him, he went up to his Sulking Tower and made himself feel better by trapping hermit crabs inside their shells with waterproof sticky tape.

  The Queen knew that no matter how much she threatened him and no matter what magic she did, the King would never agree to the marriage. She couldn’t tell him that the lovers were already married. Even if the King didn’t kill Nerlin himself, he had plenty of villains languishing in his gaols who would do it for a pair of well-fitting tights and a royal pardon. There were even desperate characters who would do it for a pair of badly fitting tights and a jar of muddy water.

  There were others, of course, who thought Mordonna and Nerlin should be together – people who thought love was more important than snobbery, social standing, gold sovereigns and designer tights – but most of them kept quiet. They had no desire to learn to water-ski or become export burgers.

  ‘Go and warn the Dirt People,’ the Queen instructed Vessel. ‘Tell them to come up into the castle cellars until the explosions have finished, and tell my daughter and her lovely husband that we must flee immediately. I will meet you all by the Friday the Thirteenth Kitchen dustbins in one hour.’15

  ‘I am your Vessel, oh great wonderfulness,’ said Vessel with stars and several small planets in his eyes, which made him forget there is no such word as wonderfulness. He made his way back to the drains, his heart overflowing with happiness.

  The Queen packed the last few royal things into her bag and slipped down the back stairs to the stables to fetch her trusted donkey, George-The-Donkey-Formerly-Known-As-Prince-Kevin-Of-Assisi. George had seen better days. He’d seen worse days, too, and when the Queen told him they were going to flee the country, he knew that this was probably going to be one of the worse days.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ he said.16

  ‘You don’t like anything,’ said the Queen.

  ‘That’s not true,’ said George.

  ‘OK then,’ said the Queen. ‘Name ten things you like.’

  ‘Grass,’ said George. ‘I like grass.’

  ‘Yes? And …’

  ‘I’m thinking,’ said George. ‘Did I say grass?’

  ‘Yes. Now stop complaining and come with me.’

  The Queen put a saddle on the donkey and led him over to the kitchen dustbins. Midnight came and the air was filled with the sound of hundreds of toilets being flushed. As the clock ticked towards a quarter past, the kitchen door opened and Nerlin, Mordonna and Vessel appeared.

  ‘Everyone is hiding in the cellars,’ said Vessel. ‘They’ll go back after the explos–’

  The ground shook with an incredible boom, cutting off the rest of his words. The drains were deserted as the explosion ricocheted off the walls, flinging some very unpleasant substances all over the place. Above the ground, twenty-seven people who hadn’t managed to ‘go’ despite the baked beans, and had still been sitting on their toilets when the explosion had detonated, all managed to ‘go’ very suddenly.

  As people rushed to and fro with fire hoses and sticking plasters, Vessel led the Queen on George’s back and the newlyweds through the back streets towards the forest.

  ‘My true and faithful friend, I must leave you now,’ said Mordonna to Leach, who had been waiting patiently on top of the castle wall for his mistress to reappear from the drains. ‘The Himalayas are no place for a vulture with a bad neck.’

  ‘Oh mistress, I cannot bear to see you go,’ croaked the old bird. ‘Without you to live for, I shall sit in a high tree and eat dead things.’

  ‘Umm, you do that already, actually,’ said Mordonna.

  ‘So I do,’ said Leach, feeling instantly better.

  ‘Listen, old bird,’ said Vessel. ‘Make your way to Patagonia. All witches and wizards pass through Patagonia at least once in their life, and so it must be that we will be there one day.’

  ‘Yes, my friend,’ said Mordonna. ‘To stay here would be bad for your health. I fear my father would teach you scuba diving in Lake Tarnish.’

  The vulture flew back into town to find someone who could tell him what a Patagonia was, and the rest of the party walked into the forest.

  ‘Before we leave our beloved Transylvania Waters, my lady, we must go and consult the Sheman. Such a dangerous journey as ours needs all the help it can get,’ said Vessel.

  ‘True, my wise friend,’ said the Queen. ‘The Sheman … it’s many years since I heard that name.’

  ‘Don’t you mean Shaman?’ asked Nerlin.

  ‘No. A Shaman is a man. A Sheman is a woman,’ the Queen explained.

  ‘I’ve never heard of her,’ said Mordonna.

  ‘Hardly anyone has nowadays,’ said the Queen. ‘King Grumpyguts made it illegal to even think about her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He’s jealous of anyone who’s cleverer than him,’ said the Queen. ‘Which is just about everyone. Even Snortpic the toilet seat cleaner is brighter than our glorious leader.’ Patting Mordonna on the shoulder, she added, ‘I thank the Lords of Darkness every day that you inherited my brains and not his.’

  ‘So do I, Mother. Where do we find this Sheman?’ said Mordonna.

  ‘Up in the mountains,’ said Vessel.

  ‘Wow,’ said Nerlin, thinking it was time he added something to the conversation.

  ‘As you say, young master, wow,’ said Vessel.

  They picked their way through the forest in silence, which was only broken from time to time by George telling them he didn’t like it. The lights of the town far below grew fainter and fainter until, finally, they came out above the trees onto a small plateau. Half the mountain still towered above them, glowing like a giant sapphire in the moonlight.

  ‘We will rest here awhile,’ said Vessel, who seemed to have taken charge of things.

  ‘I wonder if we will ever see our homes again,’ said Nerlin. ‘Though I’m not sure if I want to see mine again.’

  ‘Of course we will, young master,’ said Vessel. ‘Even the King cannot live forever.’

  ‘He’s spiteful enough to have a go at it,’ said the Queen.

  After they had rested, Vessel led them along the foot of the sheer rock face until they reached a small group of bushes. Behind the bushes there was a narrow gap in the rocks that led into a steep gully. It was hard going as the moonlight couldn’t reach into the gully and they were picking their way over fallen rocks in almost total darkness.

  George didn’t like it and told them so. The Queen dug her heels into him and he didn’t like that either.

  ‘If you don’t stop complaining,’ said the Queen, ‘I’ll strike you dumb.’

  ‘Typical royalty,’ George muttered, ‘oppressing the masses.’

  At the top of the gully there was a dark tunnel, but before they went in, Nerlin said, ‘Why don’t we roll rocks down the gully so no one can follow us?’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Mordonna, looking at her new husband adoringly. But Vessel held up his hand and shook his head.

  ‘It is, as you say, young mistress, brilliant, but there will be others who will wish to escape your father’s wrath in the years to come and we cannot close the way to them. Come, the Valley of the Sages and Other Herbs is through this tunnel. There are spells that will protect us once we reach it, so we must not delay.’

  ‘GONE!’ screamed the King. ‘What do you mean, gone?’

  ‘Th-th-they have f-f-f-f-f-fled, oh g-g-great one,’ whimpered the Chancellor as gently as possible from inside his protective lead suit. ‘It seems that your p-p-plan was not as effective as you might have hoped, sire.’

  ‘Fetch the Queen,’ the King ordered.

  ‘Sh-sh-she has gone too, sire.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said the King, calming down a bit. ‘She can’t have gone. She wouldn’t leave me. Find her manservant – that creepy Vessel – and his stupid bird. He’ll kno
w where she is.’

  But the more he spoke, the weaker his voice got as he realised the Queen wouldn’t think twice about leaving him. In fact, she had probably thought about it a lot more times than twice, and really, it was quite amazing she hadn’t gone a long time ago.

  ‘I have had another look already, sire, and another-another look. Vessel and Parsnip are gone, and so is George-The-Donkey-Formerly-Known-As-Prince-Kevin-Of-Assisi.’

  For the first time in his life the King was at a loss for words. When bad stuff happened he usually exploded, chopped a few people’s heads off, laughed at a few whippets and did a mean magic trick that made everyone in the room’s tights go all baggy and lumpy. After that he usually felt better. But now he was speechless.

  ‘They were seen, sire,’ said the Chancellor. ‘They went into the forest.’

  ‘Well, burn the forest to the ground,’ said the King.

  ‘Er … sire, with most humble respect, I don’t think that’s possible.’ The Chancellor knew there was no way the forest would ever catch fire, not even with a whole pile of newspapers and firelighters and lightning, because the weather in Transylvania Waters was always damp. The air was filled with a drizzle that soaked everything right through without ever raining properly.17 Most of the population had mould growing in every nook and cranny of their bodies.18

  Suspecting that his previous statement could make him vulnerable to a brief bout of water-skiing, the Chancellor came up with an alternative. ‘Might I suggest, sire, that you employ the best spies in the kingdom to find them instead?’

  Being a spy was a very popular profession in Transylvania Waters. People were constantly suspicious that everyone else was having a better time than they were, so they employed spies to check up on each other. Even the spies employed spies to spy on the other spies. Apart from undertaking, spying was the only growth industry in the country.